BITTERsweet
by 42believer
Summary: She never wanted to see him again. In fact, she thought he was a grade-A dickwad. But things didn't turn out how she would've liked. In fact, they rarely ever did. Will she forgive him? Probably not. Will he apologize? Definitely not. Will they both annoy each other to "death"? There's a five percent chance.


Chapter 1

I started to rearrange the cupcake display for the fifth time that morning, fidgeting it a touch this way or a touch that way so the morning sun could hit it at just the right angle. I was constantly trying to show off my wares advantageously, but my refusal to use darker coloured food dyes in my products made them considerably less bright and cheery, and by extension less enticing. Not good when trying to draw in the young school girl crowd who were constantly on the lookout for all things upbeat and kawaii.

With a sigh I retreated behind the counter, drumming my pink, paint chipped nails on its surface. There was no denying it. The day was turning out to be bloody boring, and worst of all slow. I closed my eyes with a sigh.

Ting-a-ling!

Immediately I straightened up and plastered a fate smile across my face, ready to serve whoever this customer was, regardless of whether I meant it or not. Most times I didn't, but you can't make sales with that kind of attitude.

A mother and her young daughter walked in, the girl clinging tightly to her mother's coat. The mother looked bored and tired, not to mention a tad irate.

"How can I help you?" I asked, looking at the girl sweetly. She hid her eyes behind the mom's legs, clearly shy.

"Go on, tell her what you want," the mother said, gently moving her daughter out from behind her. The child stood nervously for a moment, then approached the counter slowly. I stared at her with comforting eyes. She began pointing at a number of different things, including a sampling of most of the available chocolates.

"This is quite a lot," I commented, placing the treats neatly into a pink cardboard box. She looked a bit shy, so I thought I'd try and make her feel safe. "Are you going to eat these all by yourself?" I teased. She blushed and shook her head. "So then is this fur a party?" My tongs wrapped around truffle after truffle, nestling them in the tissue paper lined box.

"She's having a tea party for her birthday," the mother said.

"Really?" The little lady nodded, still silent and nervous. "How old will you be?" She held up five fingers. "Five? Bet that's exciting." Not that I really cared. "Well, how about I put in five extra truffles, no charge. Would you like that?" She nodded again. I packed in five more chocolates and sealed the box, placing the entire order  
inside a plastic bag. "Here you go." I handed the bag to the mother, which she exchanged for a credit card. I charged it and returned the piece of plastic to her, along with a receipt.

"What do you say?" The mother urged the child.

She hunched her shoulders, then squeaked out a quick and shrill, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," I replied, waving my hand at them as they left. I liked making and baking, but I wished that I had someone to do the service portion for me. Being nice to people wasn't exactly my forte. Thank goodness I made a sale; the money I made could pay for half of next month's rent. She must be planning a very elaborate and expensive tea party for her daughter simply based on the amount of chocolates that they had purchased.

And now the trays of those chocolates were no longer full, finally giving me something real to do. I exited the front of the store through a door and back into the kitchen, grabbing a tray as I passed. There was always a bit of extra stock in the fridge, fresh, but perfectly chilled. The truffles became slightly moist as they reached  
room temperature. I began to pile the necessary confections onto the tray until I heard the front door bell ring.

Ting-a-ling! The front bell just told me if the shop door had opened and I had a potential customer, but there was another bell on the counter-

F-tnng! That told me if my service was requested.

"Just a minute and I'll be right with you!" I called back. Working as far as I could, basically shoving any chocolate I could into the platter, I finished gathering them up and proceeded to the front. Walking with my back to the door, I used my backside to open it. "Sorry to keep you waiting, I was just grabbing some more truffles  
that I had in stock." I crouched down and slid open the glass counter door, plating the treats neatly inside.

"It's no trouble," he said, standing with his back to me examining a cake. I saw through the glass that he was older, and had graying hair.

"There were go," I said, closing the case after everything was full again. "How can I help you sir?" I turned around and grabbed another pink box near the kitchen for, hoping against hope for another big order.

"I'll need four boxes of truffles, three dozen cupcakes, a pie, and two dozen cookies." My heart skipped a beat.

"Of course sir," I said, grabbing a few more boxes. I turned back to the front and placed them on the counter. "If you don't mind my asking, why so many?" I started using my tongs to pack the chocolates in, trying to consolidate them and save him the trouble of carrying so many boxes.

He was still observing the cake, and turned to look at me, a smile painted on his weathered face. "They are for someone who means a great deal to me."

My hands packed them in with less enthusiasm, and there was the tiniest of hitching in the back of my throat. "They are truly lucky then," I said quietly. "To have some who cares about them as much as you do."

I continued with my work when he walked over, a slight furrow in his brow.

"Do you think this account will suffice?" I asked, my fake and cheery demeanour returning. "If you need more, it would only take seconds."

He was right at the counter now, towering above me as my head was bent to my task. "Excuse me, but..."

"Is something wrong?" I looked at him properly head on for the first time, and my eyes widened in surprise.

"Ruth, is that you?" He looked at me with what I guessed was much the same expression that I looked at him.

"Mr. Wammy?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I clapped a hand over my lips in frustration, cursing myself for confirming his suspicion. It all made sense now. Nobody needed all of this sugar except... No. Nope. I was not going to even think that bastard's name. Shit, Mr. Wammy had that look on his face.

"I have not seen your face for several years," he said softly. "How the time has passed. We had no idea that you were in Japan all this time." Oh God, he said "we". Shit shit shit shit! He looked around my shop. "And with your own business." A hand clapped me on the shoulder.

My eyes were obscured by the shadow of my hair, some of my old feelings bubbling to the surface. "If you're here, then that must mean he is too." My voice was dangerously low. I looked up at him with anger.

I watched as his face fell. "Yes, that is true." Once again I looked away. "Ruth, if you would be willing to talk to him again-"

"No way," I said cutting him off. "I don't want to hear whatever excuses you've made for him. As it is, he didn't even give me a suitable one, so it's not like he shouldn't have expected it. And you know what? It's fine, it really is. I don't care anymore." Rushing to finish his order, I nearly threw the cookies and cupcakes inside their respective boxes. "Just promise me something, okay?" After the pie was packed away, I began taping the boxes shut. "Don't come back." I stacked them in a bag. "And don't tell him you saw me." I pushed the bag towards him, not meeting his gaze.

"Please," he said, taking the bag gingerly. "Whether or not he'll admit it, he was wrong to leave you when he did, and how he did. It would mean so much to me if you could at least speak to him."

I refrained from biting my lip. He always did know the best way to guilt trip me. But this time, the circumstances were a little different. I wasn't naive anymore. Or at least, not that naive. "I'm not debating that he was wrong, because we both know he was. I just don't care to see his face again is all. I'm sure he bounced back quite well after he left."

Mr. Wammy sighed and pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it. It's on the house, you know, for old times sake." I turned away from him. "Just promise me and go." My voice became a little hoarse, sounding ugly and bitter.

"You have my word," I heard him say softly. "And it really was good to see you again Ruth."

I heard him walk out, bell jingling once more. The moment it shut I spun around. On the counter was a business card that read "w" in a lowercase, gothic script. Under the letter was a number.

A number I swore to never use.


End file.
